when I woke up,
I had a fragment of a memory
as if something had blown up
“what have I done?” was my inquiry
I recall:
some words spilled out.
nonchalant, I thought.
but they were explosive,
at least to those around.
how words trace back to the lips
like dark footsteps in white snow
how dangerous those words can be
like black ice, biding its time for revenge
2.9.2023
Ralph with Coffee 